Tales of America
by 91RedRoses
Summary: A place for the little ideas and baby stories that I need to clear from my head. Some may stay as one-shots and drabbles, others may grow into stories of their own. A lot of stories will have Fem!America because she needs more love. I hope you enjoy these. Welcome to the Creative Half-Thought Out Stories Part of my mind. Rated M for future naughty things.
1. American Hips Do Kill

_Okay, so I KNOW I have a lot of stories that I am still trying to finish and some that I need to write second chapters on. However, I have just gone through a very difficult break-up which has zapped me of most of my creative writing zeal. So one thing I do have in abundance is little ideas. I am going to be writing "Tales of America" as an anthology of one-shot and bunnies. I may or may not turn some of these into full stories and some of them may be connected later on in other chapters. Mostly this is just a place to put these ideas to clear up space for creativity to flow to my bigger projects such as __Here Comes the Bride__, __My Fair American__, and __Love Magic Madness__. I hope you enjoy this little pieces of creativity, some are going to be light-hearted, some will be dark, some will be from the kink_meme, some will be my taking of older plays from around the world and having them filled with Hetalia goodness. Danke for your patience and reading… enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or anything. I am writing these for fun. No money is being made so leave me alone. Thanks.**

**America's V-Card Problem**

Hello, my name is Alfred F. Jones, aka the Greatest Nation in the world: The United States of America and I am a virgin. Not 'cause I'm a prude or have anything against sex! I know what you guys all say about the Puritans! You are pretty wrong about those guys and gals and their thoughts on sex. They were actually pretty horny people who liked sex. They just liked to be married when they had it. Of course, not even that stopped them all the time. Hence how almost one in three marriages happened when the little bride already had a bun in the oven, and how guys could get kicked out of church or be divorced by the wives if the ladies were getting a little lonely in the bedroom, if you know what I mean.

(And there was that one guy who had sex with, like, twenty, or something, different barnyard animals. Still can't figure out the goose sex. I mean, like a horse and cow I can kind of see cause you can see their junk and maybe be all like, "Yummy!"—not that I have ever thought that, I'm just saying—but with birds you can't. And goose feathers can be really dirty and prickly. I mean have you ever actually laid on a goose feather mattress? I mean sure it can be soft as England's Big Ben would be after someone makes a joke "in poor taste" about the Queen Mum, but then you roll over and one of the quills is sticking up and THEY ARE SHARP… I just don't get it.)

So if I'm not a prude, why hasn't this godlike piece of blond sex on legs had sex?

The answer is both my greatest strength and my greatest weakness: I am super strong, like Superman. And I know what you guys are all thinking! "America! Aren't you just over-reacting?" No! You don't get it! Super strength isn't something you turn on and off; it is always there. I've learned to control it for the most part, but when I lose my cool or my temper or don't focus… I break stuff. Like _steel_ stuff. And guess what? Most people are much less durable than steel. And I don't want to kill someone with my disco stick, as the lovely Lady Gaga would so elegantly chant—I don't care what England says, her songs are great and even heterosexual males can enjoy them. (Not that sexuality really bothers me, or any of the other nations… when you live so long and see so much and realize that the old argument of "sex is just a way to procreate" doesn't apply to you… you try things. Not geese probably, but other things I'm sure. After all, Spain seemed pretty _attached _to some of his horses. Just saying.)

But, back to me.

You guys are now probably saying, "Oh America, you sexy piece of sin and deliciousness you! You've never had sex; you don't know that you could hurt someone." Well first off, thank you for the compliments, I know I'm hot but it is good to hear from others. Secondly, while I may not have had sex, I still have Ms. Rosie Palm and her five sisters! (That means I use my hand to masturbate for those who are not as up on euphemisms in the audience.) So I know how rough I can get.

(One time, I broke my hand I was "in the moment" so much. Man, was _that_ an awkward conversation with President Wilson! He was all like, "What?" And I was all like, "Yeah, so I broke my hand jacking off earlier and stuff. No biggie." And he was all like, "I-I don't want to know that Alfred. Dear god." Totally LULZ!)

And if I can hurt myself doing that, imagine what I would do to someone else who isn't as strong as me. Imagining it? Not pretty huh. I would like break their pelvis, or squish their organs in their lower torso or something! Not cool. And then they would bleed internally and start to die and I would hold them and it would start to rain so it would look all dramatic (even though, yeah, I know we would probably be inside, but let's just pretend that the roof sprung a leak from our glorious love-making, cool?) and they would look at me with wounded, betrayed eyes—slowly darkening as death stole their life from them—and whisper, "W-why Alfred… why?" and then they would die and I would yell to the sky, "NO!"

End scene.

So bad. Really bad. And thus I am a nearly 300 year old virgin (suck on that Steve Carell… ah, just playing, I love you man). To be honest though, I was kind of cool with this. Yeah so I was a virgin, but none of the other nations know and I mean, sure it can get pretty lonely. I see the other nations get together and laugh or talk about what a rough day it was or make plans to go do something for dinner and then I look at my planner, realize that I don't have anyone to eat with. Again. So I go home and reheat some leftovers and watch old sitcoms with laugh tracks so it seems like I'm not eating alone cause the other people are laughing…

Wow. That sounds sad.

But before you guys all get "feels" for me and want to buy me a puppy or kitty (I take either as long as their cute, but let's be honest… when are puppies and kittens not adorable?), I have an announcement to make: I am now, somehow, in a relationship with France.

I'm not even sure how it happened to be honest. We just kept running into each other I guess. We would end up at the same place for coffee, or on breaks from meetings we would end up going to the same lunch place, and then we would talk for awhile. Then we started to hang out more when we had to work on some stuff of International Importance and we just started hanging out more and more and then we would go do things together like catch movies or go to the park or to the zoo or to museums (That's when I found out we both really love museums. He may like art museums a bit more than history or science museums, but he likes those too and it was really fun to go to them with another person.). It was all really fun. Then last week we were having dinner together—just the two of us—for the fourth time that week and I realized something…

"Are we dating?"

Apparently I said that out loud because Francis just gave me a fond, exasperated look and said, "Oh darling, we have been dating for awhile but I'm glad you finally figured it out." And I would have been mad at him and told him we were most specifically NOT dating, but he had deepened his accent so it sounded like soft velvet across my ears sending shivers up and down my spine and gave me this _look_ with his eyes that made my mouth all dry and scratchy. So I just blushed—totally manly blush, I will have you know! Chuck Norris WISHES he could blush like me—and nodded and ordered something.

I tell you what. Everyone goes on and on about how great a spy England is and how sneaky and ninja-like Japan is, but they've got nothing on France. Sly bastard.

Except now I'm in a relationship with France, FRANCE! The King of Sex and Doing Naughty Things. How am I going to survive this relationship without killing him with my Hips and Penis of Power?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Okay this is super short I know. But this is only one part of a whole and I wanted to get it out. It has been rattling around in my brain for awhile and I feel better to have gotten it out. This will probably have other chapters later in my "Tales," so if you like it, let me know and I will try to update more on it sooner rather than later. Expect quite a few updates for this anthology; I have a lot of extra ideas or little thoughts that need to get out. Hopefully this will get me back in the groove and I can work on one of my big three next. If you have any thing you would like me to write (pairings or ideas) drop me a message. I would be happy to write for you. Word of warning, I like America on bottom but I am not huge into Moe ukes. It just seems so… one dimensional. Yeah I don't mind writing or reading an America who maybe is a little shyer than he lets on (after all, one way to compensate for being shy is being ultra loud and trying to seem like you have all the confidence in the world), but I don't want one who cries all the time or something. My work tends to be character driven so expect some depth. If you want me to write smut… ((blushes)) I will do my best but I can't promise perfection. Love you all!_

_Thanks for reading and please leave a review!_

_91REDROSES _


	2. Secret Agent England

_This is for REDSHIRT137. She or He requested a story with Arthur as a spy and then to have UK/US. Well, here is my best shot at this I hope you enjoy it._

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. It does not belong to me. Nothing to sue here, move along.**

**Secret Agent Man!**

The casino was that age old combination of high-class luxury and low-class sleaze. Smoke from Cuban cigars danced with upper-crust perfume. The lights were dimmed and cast everyone in a shade of dull, gold shadow. The air was heavy with the sounds of drunken laughter in a duet with groans of dismay while the accompanying clicks of poker chips and billiard balls and the slick slap of cards gave a background tempo. It was a place where men and women from high society met and mingled with the rich whose money dripped with blood, drugs, and misery to make under the table deals for power or more wealth. Mafia from Italy rubbed elbows with Colombian drug lords and Arabian princes; human traffickers made off color jokes while African weapon dealers and a Ukrainian Supreme Court Judge laughed along. It was a place where anyone could buy anything; even the hand-picked beautiful staff was always ready for a night of soft moans, hazy eyes, and warm, spread thighs. It was a place where Arthur Kirkland, Britain's REAL 007, had come to get secrets on Russia Mafia head and weapons dealer Ivan Braginsky and Her.

The first was connected to the second in a roundabout manner. The owner of the casino was the powerful drug dealer, human trafficker, and gambler Wang Yao. Mr. Wang had managed to keep from being brought to justice by having deep pockets and high friends in the Chinese government. Arthur forced himself to keep cool. One day he would bring that Chinese bastard to justice for the numerous lives he had ruined, but alas, that was not to be tonight. Tonight he was here because Wang Yao happened to be good friends with Ivan Braginsky, head of the Russian Mafia and big time weapons dealer. That delightfully big-nosed piece of human waste had managed to steal some top secret MI-16 information; the information contained both secrets about operatives in the field as well as some new weapons technology being developed by the US and Britain. It was both a great threat and great embarrassment to have lost the information and now Arthur was assigned to get it back before it could be decoded by Braginsky's men. However, Braginsky had gone underground since obtaining the information and no one had any knowledge as to where the rat was hiding. No one, that is, except Ivan's dearest chum, Yao.

And—Arthur looked up from his drink that he had been nursing to look into eyes so blue the sky must be jealous—that is where _She _came in.

_She_ was Alfreda Fiona Jones, Yao's American Beauty. Yao liked to show her off to his friends and boast that Helen of Troy couldn't rival her. Her story was as tragic as Helen's too. The young American had been visiting her twin brother in Hong Kong when Yao and his goons broke up their little reunion. It turns out that while he was in Hong Kong as part of some charitable organization, her brother had managed to step on Yao's toes. Yao had shown up that day personally to make the boy account for the affront. Alfreda had thrown herself at him to protect her brother, and Yao made her deal: she would become Yao's personal toy for the rest of her life in return for her brother's safety. The American had agreed without hesitancy. Now three years since that fatefully day, Arthur was here to not only get Ivan's location, but also to liberate her for her cooperation.

She broke his concentration with her smooth voice, "I have my end of the deal… can you still promise me you'll hold up your side." Her eyes pinned him and a lesser man would have stuttered or blushed to be looked upon and spoken to by this Golden Goddess, but Arthur Kirkland was Arthur fucking Kirkland. He didn't do what lesser men did.

With a final, slow sip, he finished his drink—a martini, shaken not stirred because that was classy—and quipped back at her with a devilish smirk and dark green eyes, "Oh my dear… I am a British gentleman; I keep all my promises especially to ladies. I will liberate you from your dreadful imprisonment and then later maybe I shall see if I can liberate you from that dreadful dress." He finished with a ghost of a kiss across her knuckles: not enough to touch, but enough to tease.

Her cheeks pinked and she dropped her eyes. She recovered herself and gave a coy smile back (not that the blush was all gone, oh no, there was a hint still there). She replied, "You don't like my dress?" Arthur leaned back and took a moment to look at the dress (and the curves hidden and accented by it).

He smoothly said, "Oh it is a lovely dress… I just believe it would look better on my hotel's floor."

This surprised a laugh from her lovely lips, and Arthur used the moment to get closer to her. Placing one of his hands at the small of her back he leaned forward (and felt a little of the curves under the dress) and whispered in her ear (causing a brighter blush to creep over her beautiful face and blue eyes to become dark with lust), "Since I have everything I came here for, why don't you say we take our leave now." She gave back a mute nod and Arthur began to lead her out.

Unfortunately for Britain's best spy, nothing was ever this easy.

A voice rang out above the background noise, "Now, now Arthur! I don't know what it is like back on that piece of mud and pig shit you call an island, but here in the civilized world of China it is considered very rude to make off with not only your host's secrets, but his mistress as well." Arthur cursed and quickly pushed Alfreda down and behind the bar. With a quickly muttered, "Stay here," and a kiss on plump, pink lips, Arthur spun to look his adversary in the eye.

He strolled across the quickly emptying casino (the patrons knew when a Bad Fight was about to break out and quickly made for the hills), fingered his hidden gun—thank you Q for finding a way to make guns that pass metal detectors—and said, "Well, whether England is or is not as culturally civilized as China, at least Englishmen never have to force women into their beds. But I guess when one has a manhood that makes a toothpick look large and daunting, one has to get by with whatever tricks one can think up."

The Chinese drug dealer snarled and screamed, "Kill that English dog!"

Arthur brought out the hidden weapon and fired off three shots with a speed and accuracy that would shame the gunslingers of the Old West. Three of Yao's thugs fell with a dramatic spurt of blood and a heavy thunk. Arthur didn't take the time to watch the men die as he dived on a nearby card table, causing it to flip up and provide shelter from the enemy's returning fire. He had counted seven bodyguards and Yao. He had three bullets left in his gun, no extra magazine (would have set off the damn metal detectors, apparently how to hide _extra bullets for the hidden gun_ was still beyond Q) and a knife hidden under his trouser leg. He needed time to think of a plan, unfortunately, like bullets, time was another thing the spy had in short supply.

A guttural shout came from his right as burly man charged at Arthur swinging a sword. After sparing a second to roll his eyes at the horrendous display of swordsmanship, Arthur jumped up to engage the man. A well timed high kick to the throat stunned the man, giving Arthur the needed time to shoot the brute in the head. _Two bullets left_, Arthur thought. Three more growls came and Arthur saw that he had been surrounded. He backed up, slowly, keeping the three grinning ruffians as far away as possible until his back bumped against a table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a billiard's stick. He grabbed it and brought it up in time to smack the leftmost swine across the head. A sickening crack was heard and the man dropped. The remaining two charged in a fit of rage and Arthur barely managed to shoot the both of them. Damn! Now he was out of bullets. Luckily all the bodyguards were dead… that only left… Yao! Where was he?!

A shrill scream, "ARTHUR!" and the slam of a door alerted Arthur to the drug lord's whereabouts. He speedily dashed upstairs and went to the room where the scream had come from. He pulled on the door and cursed his luck when he found it locked. He got down and began to pick the lock, using an emergency lock pick contained in his left shoe. Once he got the door unlocked, he pushed it open to see Alfreda tied to a bed post with a belt, struggling to get away while Yao stood over her getting his pants undone. He snarled, "Hey Yao!" forcing the man to stop and look up with wide, terrified eyes at the Englishman. Arthur made sure his stance was solid as he spat out, "A gift from the queen of that island made of mud and pig shit." With that and a strong flick of the wrist, Arthur sent his knife flying straight into the corrupt man's black heart. A gurgle came from Yao's lips as he dropped to the floor, dead.

Ignoring the dead man, Arthur swiftly came to Alfreda's side and untied her. The distraught woman clasped onto him and shuddered. He rocked her back and forth for a moment before saying, "We need to leave now. Who knows how many of Yao's gang could be on their way?"

She nodded and the two fled the premises.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur gave a deep sigh as he stepped out of the WC. He had needed that shower to get the blood and sweat off. He looked at his bed to see his new blonde roommate casually going through the channels on the telly. With a strong step, he walked over to turn off the TV. Turning around he gave a smirk to the exquisite, smiling blonde on his bed. He spoke as he stalked over to the bed, "You know, now that I have liberated you from the late Mr. Wang, I think it is now time for me to liberate you from this awful dress." He slid onto the soft bed next to her and began to slowly push her to lie down on the comforter.

"Oh?" she said with a touch of breathlessness and anticipation. Her blue eyes alight with desire.

He gave a grave nod and reached a hand around to where the zipper of the small dress was located. He said with all the somber solemnity of a funeral, "Oh yes. I made you a promise, and a British gentleman NEVER goes back on his promises."

She gave a breathy laugh that turned into a needy moan as he mouth began to nibble on her swan-like neck. She moaned, "Oh Arthur… oh, Arthur… Arthur… Arthur…"

"ARTHUR KIRKLAND!"

With a surprised shout followed closely by a small scream, Arthur Kirkland the personification of Great Britain, promptly snapped out of his little fantasy world and then promptly fell out of his chair and onto the floor. Germany gave a long, put-out sigh as the British Nation cursed and the other Nations laughed. He grumbled, "Since it appears that NO ONE can pay attention to this important meeting anymore, let's break for lunch." And with that, Italy dragged the German out of the room yelling about pasta and the rest of the gathering collected their things to break for a long lunch.

England stood up with a crack from his back and a scowl on his face. Oh wonderful, he had managed to daydream through another blasted world meeting and got caught. Was there no justice? As he gathered up his things, his eyes drifted over to where the Nation of the United States of "Let's drive Iggy Insane" America was chatting with China. With an even deeper frown he finished stuffing his papers into his briefcase and stomped out of the room. Not that he was _upset_ or anything about seeing the two together, getting along. No, of course not! The little blonde git could talk to whomever she liked. He certainly did not care in the least!

God's blood this day just kept getting better and better.

A rough shout of "Iggy!" and a hard impact on his left side, alerted him to his former colony's presence. He gave her a growl that had terrified even Spain in the midst of his empire days, "What?"

Alfreda was, of course, completely unaffected by his foul mood. She chirped, "Where you going for lunch? Not someplace nasty right? Come with me! I know a place nearby that's really good!" He gave a snort and said, "Don't you want to go with you new chum, China?"

(Damn it, he wasn't upset that she was paying more attention to China than him! Stop saying he was!)

America just blinked and laughed and said, "No way! I'm just being nice so he'll stop calling me at 3 in the morning asking me where my money is. You're my favorite old grumpy Nation you know that, now come on!" She gave his left arm a yank (and nearly tore it out of his body) and started dragging the Brit along behind her much to his protests.

(Just like he wasn't upset that she had been paying extra attention to China at the meeting, he also wasn't feeling lighter than air about being with her. Or glowing inside because she called him her favorite, old… grumpy… Nation… wait a minute!)

"I am not old you little chit!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ENDOFSECRETAGENTMANFORNOW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_So I hoped you liked this. I tried to keep this a little more serious through-out it since with Arthur's daydream I felt that he would add a certain amount of seriousness to the situation. Did you like it? If you did, let me know and I may add another chapter about Arthur Kirkland: Secret Agent Man!_

_DUN DUN!_

_Much Love, _

_91REDROSES _


	3. Terrorists versus the Nations

_So this was an idea from the Hetalia kink_meme. It is a combination of two ideas, although one is just more of a background pairing that I find so uber cute right now. The first one basically is this: Terrorists try to take over the UN while the Nations are having their World Meeting. Comedy and violence ensue as the terrorists realize they are a bit in over their heads. The second one is a pairing that I like from another request: Prussia/Fem!France/Spain. Because- yes. I am letting everyone know now that there are gender bent nations (obviously). They are: France (with blonde hair, I saw pictures of her with brown hair and blonde hair, decided on blonde), Romano, Sweden (yes!), and America. Have fun!_

**Disclaimer: I am poor~ I am but a college student~ SO! I DO NOT OWN!**

**Terrorism versus the Nations**

Son looked over his group of willing men and women. All were wearing good armor and had pistols, knives, and other various weaponry on their bodies that they knew how to use with deadly intent. This group of three hundred and ninety one was the best of their Family. All were ready to die and kill for the Cause, leaving behind their true names and families long ago. Son nodded and smiled on the inside. He stepped in front of his army and called out, "Tomorrow! Tomorrow brothers and sisters we will rise up and let the world tremble before us! The pigs we slaughter and capture come from nations that hold others of our Family hostage and we will gain back our Mother and Father! The world will know and fall to its knees in front of us! You know the plan: tomorrow, those of you who have infiltrated the World Building will quietly dispatch those not among The Family and let the rest of us in. Once we are in, it will be easier than swatting flies. The group we will capture is a group filled with diplomats from all over the world, none of them are warriors or anything more than cowards who paid bribes to get their comfy living. We will show them the meaning of fear! We will show them the extent of our mercy! We will show them their blood and guts spilled on the ground! WE WILL SHOW THEM THE FAMILY!" With this a mighty cheer and shout for blood came from his audience. Son smirked, tomorrow, their world would be theirs. And there was nothing that could stand in their way.

~~March 20, 2021; TIME: 8:34 AM~~~~~~

One hundred and forty-two of the Family went to their places. They all worked in different aspects around the new building. It had been a stroke of luck, truly Fate smiling upon them, that they were able to get as many jobs all around the building. From the lowliest of janitors up to the highest of security posts, the Family was there. The World Building itself was a marvel of modern technology. Based in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean—to avoid accusations of bias from any one country—the entire building was a floating fortress, completely self-contained with work forces that rotated off and on the base for periods of every three months. Number 47 had been in charge of scheduling and managed to make sure the entire staff was Family, except for a few people here and there, for the occasion.

The infamous Spring Equinox Meeting on the Seventh Floor.

No one knew _much_ about this all important event except that it happened four times a year—one on the Spring Equinox, one on the Summer Solstice, one on the Autumn Equinox, and one on the Winter Solstice. These Meetings known as the Equinox and Solstice Meetings were the biggest of all the diplomatic meetings and had the most important diplomats. They all stayed on the Sixth Floor and used the Seventh Floor as their meeting rooms. This spoke to their importance because those were floors that no one was normally allowed on. The first five floors were very normal and not capitalized to show their lack of importance. Delegates would arrive on the floating World Building and check in on the first floor/lobby. The second floor was a regular five star hotel area for them to stay. The third floor was a recreational/relaxation floor complete with a gym, an indoor pool, a massage parlor, a salon, and a small shopping area. The fourth floor contained more shops and twelve of the finest restaurants in the world, boasting the best chefs and cuisines from around the world. The fifth floor was filled with offices and meeting rooms for the diplomats to actually work and do their jobs.

But the Sixth and Seventh Floors? Those were only used during the Equinox and Solstice Meetings and ALL the rules changed for them. First there were the staff changes. Almost all of the normal two thousand workers would be sent home, keeping only two hundred on staff to keep the place working. Second the staff basically never saw the diplomats. The food was prepared in the kitchens below the lobby and sent up by means of dumbwaiters. As for the housekeeping? All electronic or done by the guests. The only time the maids went up to the rooms was right before and after the diplomats left.

Another odd thing was that all the diplomats appearing on those four occasions never checked in on the lobby. Helicopters deposited them on the roof and then the diplomats went to the Sixth Floor where they stayed in luxury apartments and checked in by pressing a code into their door. For all intents and purposes, the staff of the World Building never saw or interacted with the Seventh Floor Diplomats. Until now that is. Now this equinox would be different due to the Family.

The plan was simple, capture all the diplomats and demand release of Mother and Father, along with some of the other Family members who had been arrested recently. Originally the plan had been to strike on the Summer Solstice Meeting thereby getting every nation's diplomat and having a stronger bargaining position for power. Unfortunately the recent arrests and sentencing of Mother and Father had necessitated an earlier attack. So they had moved up the date—poor Number 47 had about died when he had to rearrange everything again. Those other idiots just didn't understand the soul-crushing exercise that is _PAPERWORK_ and how much he had to do to get them all reassigned!—to the Spring Equinox. Which was still alright because even though not all the nations would be there, the ones in attendance were from the most powerful and well-known nations so they at least still had that.

(And that was yet another strange thing, while the Solstices saw all the nations represented, on the Equinox meetings, basically only half the world showed up. The Spring Equinox saw almost all the Europeans countries, China, Japan, South Korea, Russia, America, Canada, Cuba and Australia while the Autumn Equinox got all the other countries. It was very strange.)

~~~TIME: 9:00 AM~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Family members began to quietly take out the non-members. Non-members were trapped or outright killed all over the first five floors as the operation began to take place. At exactly 9:42 am, all non-Family had been dealt with and the signal was given for the last two hundred and fifty members to come aboard. As Son stepped off his boat and surveyed his new fortress, he felt pride surge in his breast. The world would belong to him and his Family soon and it was a heady thought.

He gave a wave of his hand and his Family moved heading quickly and silently towards the Seventh Floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~On the Seventh Floor; TIME 9:46 AM~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Germany wondered why he continued to do this. Why he continued to try and bring a sense of decorum and dignity to these meetings. It never did anything but give him heart-burn and headaches. He looked with weary eyes over his fellow Nations and used all his will-power not to cry at the chaotic scene. The effort was also an exercise in futility.

Italy was sitting next to him drawing naughty pictures of himself and Germany doing very naughty things in a big bowl of pasta. South Italy was looking in a mirror and primping while England was doing embroidery on a little sewing circle, both trying to ignore Spain, Prussia, and France as the three did their best to annoy and molest the two volatile Nations. Japan, Hungary, Taiwan, and Liechtenstein were all huddled discussing, writing, and drawing inappropriate comics of the other Nations while Switzerland looked on and tried to be intimidating while appearing to be a Mother Hen. Austria had—somehow—found a grand piano and was playing Chopin while South Korea groped his chest and China tried to pull South Korea off Austria only to be groped for his efforts. Hong Kong and Iceland ate pop corn as they watched the show. Finland was talking to Sweden and Norway while Norway continued to twist Denmark's tie—turning him an impressive shade of blue—for something the Dane had said. Canada was getting sat on by Russia while Russia intimidated the Baltics into crying. Ukraine was trying to help Canada but was proving ineffective as all she did was wring her hands and try to get Belarus to act as an arbitrator since Ukraine was not allowed to talk to Russia right now. Unfortunately Belarus was proving to be uncooperative as she was too busy sharpening and polishing her knife collection. Cuba was glaring at America while trying to hold a conversation with Greece who was surprisingly awake and glaring at Turkey who was talking to America. And America was maybe listening to what Turkey was saying while doing something completely unrelated and unproductive on her new iPhone.

Germany was beginning to believe that these forced meetings were nothing less than an all out attack on his mental health and began to calculate how many antacids he would need to have to reduce the stomach ache he was going to get from being forced to overindulge in pasta with his Italian lover later. _At least_, he thought, _the meeting can't become any less productive than it already is_.

That was when life decided to remind Germany that it really hated his guts.

A loud BANG drew the attentions of the Nations to the door as people poured in from the door wearing all black and holding up guns. The masked assailants surrounded the table of diplomats and one, the leader most likely, strolled forward and got on the table. He called out, "Nobody moves and nobody will get hurt. All we ask is that you all cooperate and we can have this done smoothly. We are…"

Germany tuned the masked man out as he began to assess the situation. While the Nations were surrounded, there weren't more than about thirty or forty assailants in the room and all seemed to rely mostly on their pistols. Nothing too big to worry about, most likely there were more people, but they must have been placed through-out the building to guard other entrances in case of a retaliation once the invaders let the world know about the hostage situation. After noting the danger, he looked back around and saw that most of his fellow Nations had also come to that conclusion as well and were not taking the threats seriously. America had gone back to texting and England was finishing the last few stitches for his pattern. Another loud bang shook the room.

The leader was huffing and glaring as he lowered his gun from where he had shot up to regain their attention. (_Foolish_, thought Germany, _you just wasted a bullet for no reason. Amateur._) The man scowled, "I am serious here people. While you are more useful alive, bullets fucking hurt and there are places we can shoot without killing you. So just do as you are told: women go to the right and men go to the left… NOW!"

The Nations began to get up and move to where they were told, planning as they did to take out the terrorists once they were closer to the cowards and then, nicely and neatly, take care of the rest. No need for too much excitement, it could all be handled simply—"Oh!" The leader called out, "And no heroics! There is no such thing as a hero and none of you sure as hell are heroes anyway."

The entire party stilled and as one looked towards the World's Superpower. Germany and many of the others though, _Well now it goes all to hell in a hand basket_.

The man noticed her and strode over to where she was still standing by the table. He snarled, "Didn't you hear me baby? Get that pretty little ass of yours over to the right and maybe I'll be nice and only let a few of my men find heaven between those sweet legs of yours tonight."

Faintly Germany heard England mutter, "Bloody idiot had to keep on provoking her…"

Germany grabbed Italy and prepared himself for the chaos. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that other Nations were starting to slowly clump together as well waiting for the chaos. His brother had France and Spain had Romana so those four would be okay… he would join up with them.

Turning his head back to America he saw her lean forward and grab the table. She said, "That's some stupid bullshit to say! First you try and tell me that I'm not a hero and THEN you have the nerve to tell me that you think your fugly ass is going to be touching me later! No way Jose! You are a hundred types of wrong right now! Let me show you what happens when you mess with the Great US of A!" America gave a mighty pull and lifted the table easily over her head. Swinging it around up high, she used the table to push back the terrorists that had surrounded the Nations as well as letting all the Nations scamper under the table and begin to run towards the unguarded door. Seeing that all her fellow Nations had gotten away from the blast zone, America tossed the heavy oaken table over to the shocked and confused terrorists. She cried, "Present from America, BI-AWTCHES!"

The terrorists screamed as they were hit with the huge piece of furniture. Dazed the evil grop groaned in pain before finally beginning to try and wiggle out from the table. Son was helped up and growled in anger as he noticed that all the diplomats were gone. He shouted at the fallen members, "GO GO GO! FIND ME THOSE DIPLOMATS! AND BRING ME THAT BLONDE AMERICAN BITCH ALIVE! NOW!"

~~~END FOR NOW~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Well there you go the first part of this installment. Now in the interests of being totally fair, the table and "no heroes" business comes from the author anon on the kink meme. I just loved it so much I wanted to incorporate some element of it in my story. That will be the last bit though. Everything else is my idea though. And will continue to be my idea from now on. If you like this let me know and I will continue more of it later. That is all for now! Now to respond to my anon reviewers:_

_GUEST (1/18/13)__: I see you enjoy your English secret agents. __ I will try to put more of those in later so keep reading and reviewing. Thanks for letting me know you like the idea and I'm glad you like the Scrubs moment because I am a fan of that show. Again, appreciate your review!_

_MUCH LOVE,_

_91REDROSES_


	4. Australian Migration

((**Another prompt from kink meme, I hope you all enjoy it. I am experimenting with dialogue only writing so this will hopefully not turn out terribly. I own nothing. Enjoy!))**

_**Australian Migration**_

~~~~~~~~~~~~ON~WITH~THE~SHOW~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_(This is the transcript of the 789,456__th__ World Meeting located in Berlin, Germany and dealing with the "Australian Drunken Relocation Incident of 2014." The following transcript has been translated from the First Tongue of Nations into English by historian Mark Bigglestine of New Hampshire University in the year 2023.)_

Germany: Alright, alright. Everyone settle down. We have called this emergency meeting of the Nations to discuss the events of the past three nights, February 15-17. Now—

Australia: Oi, do you think you can keep it down? My head's about to split open.

Germany: No. You only have yourself to blame for both your headache and the reason we are all having this meeting in the first place.

Australia: Motion that we end this meeting under the basis that it is both discrimination against me and very unfair to me.

Germany: Motion ignored.

Australia: I could just whine and whine until you cancel this stupid meeting…

Germany: I live with Prussia and Italy often drops in unannounced and stays for days. I am immune.

Britain: Can we get on with this! What the hell were you even thinking, Kyle Laertes Kirkland! I swear I raised you better than this—

Australia: Right, being a prison colony is just the _best_ way to make sure someone grows up as a normal productive member of the world community. Really great job there.

England: …It's America's fault, I knew it.

America: HEY!

Germany: SHUT UP! Australia, give us an account of what possessed you to do as you did and _how_ you did it over the past three days.

Australia: Okay, look I was really, REALLY drunk the day after Valentine's Day—

Italy: Why, ve?

Australia: To help me get over the hangover I would have had on Valentine's Day otherwise, duh. You know hair of the kangaroo that eviscerated you?

Prussia: Makes sense.

Germany: HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET IN HERE?!

Australia: Germany, stop yelling! God, my head…

Cuba: Look we are getting off topic and I want my fucking house back where it belongs, so continue the story, Prison Brat.

Australia (mumbles): See if you get your house back now…

Cuba: What was that?!

Australia: SO! I was really pissed the day after V's Day in both the English and American slang of the word. I was drunk, REALLY drunk, I cannot stress that enough; and I was angry because yet another Valentine's Day had passed and once again you assholes refused to invite me over to the Valentine Orgy Party!

America: Dudes… you guys have an orgy on Valentine's Day? Seriously? How come Canada and I aren't invited? DISCRIMINATION!

England: …It really isn't an orgy. And you are much too young for that anyway!

France: I don't know what party you went to my darling Eyebrows, but it certainly was an orgy. Oh, I still remember Germany's little dance involving (_Editor's note: the next part has been censored due to German request_) and I still don't know how Austria could do that (_Editor's note: this part was also censored but due to Austrian request this time_)… really it was all a huge amount of fun.

America: Wow. That is something.

France: Oh yes.

Australia: SEE! That isn't fair that I miss out on that EVERY DAMN YEAR! So while I was drunk, I was talking to this really nice trollop (_Editor's note: For those unfamiliar with Australian slang, Australia is saying he was speaking to a "lady of the night" aka a prostitute._) And she and everyone else in the pub all agreed that it was because we were too far south. If we were up there with you lot, you would have to invite us to the parties. So I said to her, "Damn it but that is a good idea Sarah." (_Editor's note: The woman's name has been changed from Susan Shalleks of Sydney to protect her identity._) And THAT is when I decided to move my house to the middle of the Northern Atlantic Ocean. The next three days were kind of a blur because to help me move my house, I made everyone give me their Oiler can of Fosters (_Editor's note: an oiler can is a very large can of beer._) so that—thanks to the magical power of Australian beer—I could move my house. Don't ask me how I did it 'cause, like I've said, I was so drunk.

France: And yet more evidence of England's _great_ parenting ability.

England: I will strangle you in your sleep with your intestines.

France: Kinky.

Germany: Both of you stop flirting. If you must, then you know which closet has been designated for such carnal affairs. Please use it and keep your sexual congress in the time limits.

((Muffled whispering))

Germany: I have been informed that you've already gone over your allotted "closet time" by three hours, twenty-seven minutes, and fourteen seconds. The time will be coming out of your closet time next world meeting. Switzerland, please make note in the official minutes.

Switzerland: Noted.

Germany: Thank you. Now to continue on—

Australia: SEE! THIS IS WHAT I MEAN! You all get allotted sexy time in a closet?! WHAT THE HELL! Why don't I get any of that?!

Germany: Please desist from the hysterics, Australia; we only do this so we can keep track of Nations easier during EU meetings. Nothing more or less so please don't act like we're excluding you.

Cuba: Well this has all been _fascinating_, but I'm more concerned with GETTING MY HOUSE BACK!

Germany: Thank you Cuba. Now Australia during your, shall we say, migration north you did considerable damage. You molested Brazil—

Australia: You've seen her knockers and that cute little ass, right? I'm not the only one who's wanted to tap that. You're just jealous that you've got a ball and chain.

Italy: Ve~ Germany likes those things in bed though…

South Italy: Sick potato bastard.

Germany: BACK ON TOPIC! You also attacked Spain with dung bombs—

Australia: That was just funny and a gift to England

Germany: You flashed your genitals at Nigeria, Morocco, and South Africa—

Australia: I heard he was good in the sack and wanted him to know that I was willing to test those tales.

Germany: AND crashed into many of the Nations in the Caribbean, managing to not only cause as yet unknown amounts of property damage (_Editor's note: the final calculation was $247,567.82 from property damage, but the ecological damage from the 5,674,898 empty Fosters' Oiler Cans is still unknown._) but you also got both Cuba and the US's state of Florida to get stuck on your house.

Australia: Yeah… I've been meaning to ask… America? What, what is it like to have tits now and be a girl? And before Germany yells again, I would like to state that I am asking ONLY out of scientific curiosity and because everyone wants to know.

America: Well, once I got over the searing pain, the ensuing panic over no longer having a penis, and the gender-identity confusion that comes with having spontaneous, unplanned gender realignment surgery… it's been kind of fun. I mean, watch. (_Editor's notes: According to notes taken by other Nations and eyewitness accounts, it was at this time that America got up on a table and did an erotic dance that involved mostly shaking her new body around and, quote, "jiggling those huge hooters like they were a pair of jello shots."_) It's really fun to do. Like two big soft balloons on my chest that I can jiggle around at will. Now I _will_ want Florida back—especially Disney world, in fact if you don't give at least Disney back in twenty-four hours, I am declaring war on your ass—but for now I want to experiment a little. I mean, who gets the chance to have sex as both a boy _and_ a girl? So! I'm heading to the closet and would like to extend an open invitation to anyone here, male or female, to come and help me find out.

((Noise erupts at this point and it is hard to hear anything. According to eyewitnesses all the Nations scramble after America.))

Germany: ORDER, ORDER! Australia you will sit back down… you too England, France! You both have already gone over your time in the closet.

England: I-I was not… I w-was just going to uh, er… help America, um… keep the, uh, unwanted bastards away! Yes! That's it! I… It wasn't like I wanted to… er, what I uh mean is that I don't have an, ah, interest or anything… so silly. S-so if you could, er, let me go… help America, I would—

France: Very smooth, England. Everyone believes you.

England: I hate you. Go to hell.

France: Considering that I am here with you against my will instead of helping America learn her new anatomy? I can safely state that I'm already there.

Germany: Since it appears that no one wishes to take part in this discussion anymore… I will call this meeting to a close and we will re-open the discussion at the next meeting.

Cuba: Oh well that is just great, I mean, just because my entire house has been _kidnapped and forcibly relocated_, don't let that trouble you! It's not like I liked having a home! _Oh no!_ I've been meaning to try being homeless for awhile but never got around to clearing my fucking schedule!

Australia: Hey, hey Cuba… why don't we head down to the pub? We can discuss this whole "I've-kidnapped-your-house-while-drunk" thing and you can see that having me around isn't too bad. We'll have a few drinks, see where the night takes us and then head back to _our_ place. Maybe later I can show you why Aussies are on the top ten of best lovers list…

(_End transcript._)

Oh my god. I hope this was at least a little funny or something. Please read and review and let me know if you have anything you want me to write for you or suggestions for a pairing you want to see or a continuation of a different tale? I love you all!

TO MY ANON REVIEWERS:

Guest (1/18/13): I am glad you liked England as a secret agent! I will try to write more tales about him. And high five for loving scrubs! Great show… thanks for reviewing and telling me you liked my story. I appreciate it so much.

MUCH LOVE,

91REDROSES


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